The Lesser of Both Worlds
by Hannah Lynn McDonald
Summary: Just...for archival sake, because I did write them - here are the original ending chapters for Best of Both Worlds.
1. Punk is Dead - Part 1

"A cluster of small puncture wounds upon the left thigh." He tilted his head, considering them. "Cause: unknown." Abandoning his digression as to the pattern, he turned away and leaned onto the slab beside the woman's head. "Clearly, the cause of death is this sharp-force tramau to the back of her head." He could hear his assistant fiddling with something in the background; and he straightened up. "Wait – Lucas, what is listed as the proposed murder weapon?"

"An ax, baby – check this out."

Deciding to leave the question as to why the guitar was called an 'ax' – as an ax certainly was not responsible for the killing blow, and as Lucas had picked up a guitar covered in blood... - he folded his hands and watched his assistant pretend to play the instrument. If either the noun or infinitive could be applied, given that the...noise generally produced rarely sounded as music 'played' on an instrument.

Lucas' movements petered off, and he straightened up a bit. "It's a little out of tune..."

He had doubts as to whether it had ever truly been 'in tune', but he ignored his objections with modern 'music' for the moment. "They named the guitar as the murder weapon?"

"Yeah – cops couldn't find any prints, but -" he gestured at the blood long since dried and then handed the instrument to Henry, "Obviously tons of blood."

"Hmm." He looked over the strings, musing at the changes that had happened to stringed isntruments since his youth. Then, catgut and horsehair made sounds pleasing to the ear; now, wire and metal visited acute, chronic headaches upon myriad victims. He glanced across at his assistant, who had picked up a boot, and smiled slightly. "Turn around."

Lucas glanced up. While he was prone to digression and ramblings on subjects Henry feared he would never grasp, it could not be said that he was not smart. Setting down the boot with a sigh, he turned around. "Fine."

Lifting the guitar again, Henry smiled as he heard Lucas' whispered 'I hate this'. Seeing a movement in the corner of his eye, he glanced towards the door to see Jo. She frowned in confusion at him, and he motioned for her to be quiet. "Now, even if you wanted to kill someone with a guitar, you would naturally grab it by the neck – not by the body." He demonstrated, making every effort to amplify the sounds he was making by re-situating his hands on the neck of the guitar. "But let's just assume that it was used that way," He flipped the guitar around, ignoring both Jo's very muffled laughter and Lucas' tense shoulders. "It would have left _multiple_ puncture wounds – not just one..."

Lucas ducked as the pegs passed within inches of his head, and Henry frowned slightly at the reaction.

"Easy there, Van Halen." Jo stepped forward, making herself known.

"Oh, good, you're here." He smiled, handing the guitar to Lucas as his assistant reached over his shoulder.

"Oh good, _anyone's_ here." He replaced the instrument on the table.

Jo smiled, shaking her head slightly. "I think you make a very good murder victim, Lucas."

He came back to stand beside Henry. "Yeah – that's not really a compliment."

"Surely being told you are good at acting the part when you make films yourself..."

Lucas frowned for a moment as he thought about that, and then straightened up in understanding. "Ah – of course. But it's not so much acting as it is a sincere desire to not be a living example of an 'a-ha' moment."

She tried to stifle her grin. "You don't have faith in Henry not to kill you?"

"That thing was this close to me!" He measured the (exaggerated in its narrowness) distance between his fingers. "I could feel it through my hair!"

"Lucas, I could see it – it wasn't that close." She glanced towards the Doctor. "Besides, I'm sure he could think of a few other, less traceable ways to do away with you. As could you, come to think of it."

"Yes, we're just a bunch of bunch of budding murderers." Lucas paused for a moment.

Henry, seeing an idea dawn in his assistant's eyes, realised that he had a new idea for a film of his. Hastily, he turned to Jo and gestured her toward the woman – toward Lucy. "But regardless, the guitar could not have been the murder weapon."

She followed him over to the slab. "Personal experience?"

He glanced up sharply, quickly following that up with a frightened look towards Lucas.

"Nah – I don't think we've ever had a case where the victim's head was, um..." Lucas trailed off as he tried to find a way to say it that wasn't as disrespectful toward the victim.

Henry forced himself to relax. "No, simply a matter of comparing the alleged weapon and the wound and seeing no match."

"Well, it doesn't mean Eddie Warsaw didn't kill her – he could have used something else."

"True. But it does mean that the current theory of what killed her is wrong – certainly enough to reopen the case."

She hesitated. "I don't think that's going to happen."

* * *

 _AN: This is the last chapter written before I left. So this actually follows the old format. After this, I'll probably just do one chapter per episode as the scenes are much shorter. Thank you for taking the time to read this._


	2. PUnk is Dead - Part 2

"Look at this!" Lucas pulled a magazine out of the box. "May 1981 – I was but a glint in my mother's eye." He rested his hands on the edges of the box. "A somewhat regretful glint though, after a night of jello shots and 'shrooms."

Jo smiled.

"How about you, boss?" He leaned forward. "What were you doing around then – swinging your first cricket bat or...riding your trike," He leaned back and mimed driving the vehicle while adopting an accent, "around Hyde Park?"

Henry gave up on going through the files in his box, and glanced in a mixture of amusement and exasperation at Jo before turning to Lucas. "Yes, something like that..."

Seeing that the two men had seemed to have taken a break, Jo rested her hands atop the clothes she was examining. "You do that on purpose, don't you."

"Do what?" Henry turned back to her.

"Use Lucas for your murder victim."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Detective Martinez."

Lucas leaned forward. "Boss abuse. Boss harassment. Does that exist? Pretending to kill your coworker can't be legal."

"He could really kill you."

"Yes, thank you, Detective. I will never be in a room alone with him again." He backed up a step and the Doctor smiled. "I get it. I'm the outsider here – not really contributing anything. I talk too much, get awkward," He returned to his task of sifting through the evidence and stepped on Henry's foot, "Sorry! Sorry, Doc."

"It's fine, Lucas."

"This jacket is heavy even with the hardware."

Lucas looked to her, abandoning his box again.

She fiddled with the jacket, tugging gently on it while Henry took advantage of the silence to return to his files. Finding the opening, she pulled out a large amount of bills.

"Oh….Cash – money!"

"The edges are curled – this is drug money."

Henry frowned. "What was Lucy doing with all of that money?"

"Maybe she stole it, and that's why she was killed."

* * *

Not being able to go with either detective almost put a damper on the excitement he felt at having permission to continue this case. Abe would go if he asked, but this was not a situation that he would be inconspicuous in. He would likely be disappointed at the chance to see his father in the club, and he did enjoy working cases with him.

Lucas was similar. More insecure and less quiet – but the same excitement for life.

...and he would not stand out in the club.

"Lucas, would you like to come to a club with me this evening?"

Lucas stopped, and Henry nearly passed him. Turning, he stumbled back a step when Lucas said nothing but threw his arms tightly around him.

He stiffened, but he could feel tension draining out of his assistant, and he slowly smiled as he returned the hug.

Very much like Abe.

* * *

Hearing that Henry had gone to the club to collect evidence and was – according to the very worried Lucas – in trouble was not what she expected when she answered the phone. Apologising profusely even as she quickly gathered her things, she couldn't decide whether or not she was relieved for the interruption.

Knowing the club, he would only be escorted outside the first time.

Knowing the Doctor, he would go back inside a second time.

She didn't bother parking the car when she pulled up.

"...wait – hold on! Hold on!"

"Hey! NYPD – NYPD!" She pulled her badge out. "I got it. Step back." She watched until the bouncer returned back inside. "Henry, what in the world are you doing?"

He stood, brushing himself off with a proud smile. "Getting Frank Ferral's DNA."

She stared at him for a second. "No interference, Henry – we were ordered to stay away!"

"You were, yes. But the OCME is independent and was not ordered to stay away."

"...Should I be denying that I knew what we were here for yet?"

"I was off-duty, Henry."

"Oh. My apologies, Detective – I didn't mean to interrupt your date."

"It was a working date – that's beside the point."

"Who was working?"

"We both were – look-"

"You could return."

"Not really." She looked between the two men – Lucas looking shocked and Henry still looking incredibly pleased. "nevermind… Get in the car, I'll take you home."

Henry nodded, high-fiving a still stunned Whal and opened the door to the passenger seat of her car.

Lucas shook his head as he followed with a widening grin. "Best night ever!" He slid into the back seat of the car.

"Lucas, I do believe that now I am high."

"Wait – what? How? Doc-!"

"On success, Lucas."

The younger man groaned and let his head fall forward on the back of the chair while Jo chuckled.

* * *

 _AN: Three scenes... I think besides no inspiration the difference is that there isn't one point of view. *sighs* I can't fix it now and at least it's written. This is all for this episode. Thank you for taking the time to read this._


	3. Punk is Dead - Part 3

"Henry? You okay?"

He glanced up to acknowledge her. "Fine – just finishing up here."

"Henry," she paused, "I know that you're upset about the outcome of this – so am I – but is there something else going on here? Why are you invested in wrapping this up?"

"I am always invested, Jo."

"Yes - but there's something different this time." She waited and watched as he slowly set his pen down. "You get this way about personal cases."

he sighed. "There was never any closure for Abigail. She wrote a letter and disappeared."

She could feel something clench around her chest. "Oh – I'm sorry..."

"It was many years ago. I tried to find her – to say goodbye, but..."

"But she had learned."

He nodded. "Abe pulled me out of my obssession, but the desire to know never left. And I was not accused and convicted for murdering her."

"I see..."

He opened his mouth to reply but fell silent when Lucas stepped forward with a report.

"Ah, here – Lucy's tox report came back." He handed it to Henry. "Not that it matters."

* * *

"Would you like to come in for a moment?"

She shook her head. "Not tonight – say goodnight to Abe for me."

"I will. Thank you, Jo."

She glanced up at the shop while he turned to go inside. "When did you start?"

"Start what?"

She gestured at the sign. "The shop. Whose idea was it?"

He glanced up. "Abraham's – couched in flattering words such as 'years of accumulating stuff'."

She smiled. "I see."

"I believe he was taking advantage of my emotional vulnerability to profit himself."

"Abe? No way… I mean, a source of genuine lucrative items?"

He turned back to her in disappointment. "Et tu, Detective?"

"What did Abe want to do when he grew up?" She leaned on the roof of her car.

"He had wanted to be a time traveller." He smiled gently. "Or a detective."

"What did you want to be?"

"A physician."

"Of course! What else… Thanks for coming tonight, Henry."

"Abraham refused to let me stay home."

"And the truth comes out..."

"I am very sorry, Jo – but I cannot listen to Detective Hanson sing again."

"Henry – how inconsiderate!"

"Yes...

"He had fun. Lucas had fun.

 _I_ had fun."

"I will go find something to reward myself for putting up with cheap beer."

"Fine, be a snob, Henry."

"You ought to respect your elder, Jo."

"Wait – what?" She stared at him for a moment, and then grinned. "You should earn respect."

"Jo, do I not?"

"No."

"You wound me. Good night, Jo."

She smiled. "Good night, Henry!"

* * *

 _AN:...sorry. I thought the first scene was in a later episode..._


	4. Best Foot Forward

"Paris is...Well, let's just say that 'whereever you go in the world, Paris stays with you; for Paris is a moveable feast."

She followed him into his office. "That's beautiful."

"Well, it's Hemingway, not me – he did have a way with words." He frowned and paused. "And he had a way with women."

She smiled. "From experience?"

He glanced up with old frustration.

"Seriously? You met Hemingway?"

"Sadly, I must call him an acquaintance."

"Most people would love to meet a classic author!"

" _Most_ people haven't met Hemingway." He grit his teeth.

She shook her head, still smiling. "So what are some of Henry's must-sees in Paris?"

"Not Hemingway." He relaxed a bit. "In my humble opinion, the single best thing to do in Paris is to get lost."

She stared at him blankly. "Lost?"

"Yes. Wake up, start walking – in any direction, really – and get lost."

She nodded slowly.

"Follow the streets until you're so terribly weak that you've no choice but to stop at the nearest café and order something wonderful to eat along with a glass or two of wine, and then..." He paused for a moment. "Set back out into the city and do it all over again."

She was quiet. "Did you do this before?"

"Once."

"Once?"

"...Circumstances...prevented it from happening again."

"Good or bad circumstances?"

"Decidedly bad. But I didn't die."

She stared at him for a moment. "Terrible but you _didn't_ die?" She shook her head.

"And you complained about my lack of self preservation."

"When was the last time you went to Paris?"

"A little while after the war. Abigail and I stopped there before coming to the States." He sighed. "We had little time to truly enjoy it, though..."

She nodded slowly. "It sounds nice."

Henry began to answer, but Lucas came in: "Oh good – I've got both of you!"

"You've got one of us – Jo has some packing to do."

She grinned.

* * *

Jo sighed in frustration. "I just – I can't believe that Ava put herself through _that_ much pain. And for what?"

Henry walked beside her. "I once knew someone similar to Ava – never underestimate what some people will do to-"

She glanced sideways at him with a smile. "To live forever?"

He began to answer and then stopped and turned to her with exasperation. "yes..."

"It fit. When did you meet her?"

"At the hospital-"

"No – the other woman."

"Ah! Valerie…. I met her at the end of the 1920's. A brilliant gifted woman – she was a wonderful artist." He sighed. "She would use heroin to 'aid' her creativity though..."

"Oh… What happened to her?"

He looked away. "She overdosed. Her last work was the talking statue."

"…That statue?"

"Yes – she lives forever through it."

Jo nodded. "...Do you think it was worth it? For Valerie? For Ava?"

He thought about it. "Yes, I believe it was. For them. They would not choose to do otherwise. For all it cost them – it was worth it."

* * *

"Shouldn't you be on a plane?"

She set her bag down, and then stepped further into the room. "I realised that I…That I couldn't go." She turned back to face him.

"What? To Paris?"

She nodded jerkily. "...With Isaac." She took a deep breath. 'I didn't want to go with Isaac."

"Jo...Why?"

"I-I couldn't. Not on secrets..."

"He knew, Jo."

"Yes – but he didn't tell me and I didn't tell him and...I don't want to make the relationship that way." She sighed. "And he was too nice."

" _Too_ nice?"

"Yes. I don't know. Maybe I'm not ready yet. Maybe I thought that-"

The door to the shop opened. "Henry!"

He turned around to face Abe.

"Good, you're here." He came into the shop. "I need to talk to you."

Henry frowned, putting a hand the other's shoulder. "Abe, is everything alright?"

"You know – it's nothing. It's nothing, I can handle it. I guess I'll -"

"Jo, you can stay and here this too."

"Hear what? Abraham, tell me what's happened?"

"...I found Mom."

Jo and Henry froze. "You did what?"

"Abraham, how? Why did you?"

Jo set down her purse. "How long have you been looking?" Her voice was quiet but both turned to look at her.

Abe shifted. "Well..."

"Abraham… What did you do?"

"I won't arrest you. Probably."

"Ha, ha – no, I had some help."

Henry looked at him.

"Lucas, alright? No one else. And I just said that my mom left my dad," He ignored Henry's flinch and Jo's wince and pushed on. "And that I really wanted some closure. And! And before you get too mad at the boy, I might have manipulated him a little."

"Abe...it was behind us."

"No. It was still looming everywhere. This way you can put it to rest, alright? Check on her, find out what happened, and then say goodbye."

"...where did you even begin?"

"I might not have been...entirely honest when I said I threw your things out."

Henry stared at his son, and Jo had to smile at the picture they made.

"Is this why Lucas has been signing for files and imitating my voice?"

"...probably."

Henry sighed.

Jo smiled. "That's terrific, Abe."

* * *

 _AN: This is all for this episode. And the sight that held all of the transcripts I used crashed and lost the transcripts, so all dialogue was copied by ear... Thank you for taking the time to read this._


	5. The Night in Question

_AN: Normally, I don't put these notes in the beginning. However, this episode basically needs to be completely rewritten and I haven't taken the time yet. Perhaps one day, but not now. As Abigail left Henry in 1966 instead of seventy-whatever, she couldn't have been in that episode. There was always going to have to be an overhaul. My original plan had been to just shift dates backwards - so everything still happened and Abigail died to protect Henry rather than of the cancer she had. However...Well, while I didn't write this until last Sunday, I never did stop writing. And for whatever reason, I filled in the history of the Immortals. So not only did I have to fix the episode for_ It Could be Worse _, I also had to fix it for the rest of the stories. Sorry..._

 _Abigail never writes the letter, so all scenes with that are moot. All references to 'the nurse' in the episode are to be thought of as 'the doctor' as they think the owner of the house was there when Belinda was killed. Basically the same as canon, just with Pendrick instead of Abigail._

 _As I said, the whole thing needs to be rewritten. Sorry..._

 _Also, just assume there's a photo identification in the medical file. I sort of took over the character since, and needed a way for him to be identified. Sorry, this is a mess..._

* * *

"Excuse us, we're looking for Abigail Morgan."

"Who did you say you were looking for?"

"Sorry – Sylvia Blake."

Abe spoke up. "Or anyone that knew her."

She rested her hands atop her rake. "I haven't heard that name for awhile."

"You knew her?"

"She used to own this house – but that was a long time ago."

Abe shifted forward. "See. The reason we were asking is because...I'm her son."

She turned to look at Abe again. "So you're the one..."

Henry hesitated, and then rejoined the conversation. "You don't know what happened to her?"

"No idea. She came out here to die, and didn't last long."

Henry flinched. "Did she mention a...life? Before she came to Tarrytown, did she mention a family?"

"No… Someone came out to live with her – he inherited the house when she died – but she didn't really speak of anyone else. There was a son, but she didn't want him to see her like that."

"Someone?"

"Yes – an undistinguished man, a doctor. He was there for her." She paused, and then remembered something. "I saved a box of her old things when I cleaned the house – I guess I felt that someone would come back for it one day."

"Oh, may I see them?"

She nodded, turning to lead Abe into the house.

* * *

"Okay...Belinda Smoot, admitted April 7, 1985"

He took the file. "Thank you." He held it open so Jo could read it with him. "…She was treated by a Nurse Hurst." He snapped the file shut. "Perhaps she could find a connection between Belinda's stay here ending in Abigail's back yard."

"If she works here still."

"Yes..." He looked around. "There. A veteran nurse if ever I saw one." He approached the older woman. "Excuse me."

She looked up from the patient she was helping. "How can I help you?"

"Do you happen to know if a Nurse Hurst still works here?"

"Yes, I'm her."

"Would you be willing to answer some questions about a patient?"

"Yes – I'll take break in about five minutes."

"Do you remember a patient you treated for a broken arm – Belinda Smoot?"

"The girl in the car crash?"

"Good memory."

The nurse looked down for a moment. "That night was hard to forget." She looked up. "I had just finished treating the girl when a motorcycle hit and run came in. No one knew how long he had been bleeding on the side of the road, and he was in pretty bad shape." She shook her head.

"Do you know what happened to Belinda after she was treated?"

"Oh, I sent her back to Dr. Pendrick's place."

"Why would you send her there?"

"Dr. Pendrick lived alone after Mrs. Blake died, but he'd take in girls that were in a bad place. He never spoke of it, but we knew he did it – he always insisted that it wasn't by choice."

"The injury is marked 273 – that's police code for domestic assault."

"She needed to be safe, the poor thing."

Henry sighed. "Do you know where we could find this Dr. Pendrick?"

"Sorry, he died in 1985."

"...the file says a Teddy Graves checked Belinda in." She glanced up at the nurse's sudden frown. "Do you recognise that name?"

"It was why Belinda didn't want to press charges. He was going to Princeton at the time to be a lawyer; now he's a federal judge."

* * *

"He's all yours."

Henry stood slowly. "I shouldn't have accosted a federal judge without consulting you first."

"Henry, what's going on?"

"I told you -"

"No. Why does a thirty-year old case have you acting like this? And it's not just your need for the truth to come out – what is wrong?"

He hesitated, glancing at the door behind her. Finally he sighed in resignation. "Abigail died here. She worked as a nurse for a few months until it became too much for her to hold regular hours, and then she volunteered when she could."

"Oh… Have you gone to see her grave yet?"

He shook his head. "There isn't one. Sylvia Blake isn't buried here. She disappeared again."

"At least you know she's gone."

He sighed. "Yes."

"What?"

"She wasn't alone."

"Isn't that a good thing? Why would she want to be alone in death?"

"She left me."

"Yes… Is this about Dr. Pendrick?" Jo sighed. "He was probably just a sort of live-in nurse that helped her at the end."

"Probably..."

Her phone rang, and she turned to answer it. "Yes?...I'm on my way." She hung up. "Judge Graves just walked into the station house."

* * *

"What happened to him?"

"Who?"

"The man – the doctor that owned the house. The sherriff said that Belinda was alone when he was there." He paced absently through the room while Abe put down the book he was reading.

"Why do you want to know?"

"He was there at Abigail's death – could tell me where to find her." He walked over to the table, picking up the medical file of the hit and run victim and idly flipping through it. "Ruptured spleen, fractured skull, internal bleeding – one could be a very fine nurse, but nothing could have saved this man." He turned to the back of the file. "Charles…Pendrick. We found the doctor."

"What?"

"The hit and run victim – he was the doctor that stayed with Abigail." He frowned, turning back through the rest of the folder, and then suddenly stilling. "I need a moment alone, Abe."

"...What's wrong, pops?"

"A moment!"

Abe hesitated, and then stood to leave while Henry picked up the phone.

"Hello, Henry."

"What did you do to her?"

"Nothing."

"She was dying – couldn't you leave her in peace?"

"You think me a monster, Henry – she offered me a place to stay, and I took it."

"She was alone."

"She was dying. She thought of her husband more than anything else, and she never wanted him to find her. She was running away."

"To protect me!"

"Yes."

Henry frowned at the agreement. "Where is she?"

"Buried in the cemetery."

"There was no Sylvia Blake."

"Abigail Pendrick, Henry."

"…Why? Why stay with a dying woman? Why take in young women?"

"Because a monster must hide, Henry."

He grit his teeth.

"She did not want me to find you, Henry. But eventually I found you, on my own."

"She was protecting me..."

"What do I say? A good woman is hard to find."

* * *

 _AN: Thank you for taking the time to read this._


	6. Last Death of Henry Morgan

"What is going on with you – it's like you're trying to sabotage this case!"

"On some occasion, I happen to be wrong. I was uncertain about the guard-"

"No, you knew. You lied to me, Henry. I deserve the truth!"

He stared at her for a moment, and then sighed in resignation. "Do you recall the pistol that Adam left me?"

"The one that he thinks can kill you permanently? Yes. What does that have to do with anything?"

"I believe that this is Adam's dagger."

She stared at him. "...Adam's dagger as in 'permanently kill Adam'?"

"Yes."

"...He was at Xander's wasn't he."

He looked away.

"Henry, what if he hurt you?"

"I would come back! You-" He cut himself off.

She softened. "I can take care of myself, Jo."

"I couldn't save Abigail from him – I won't let him touch you."

"That's sweet." She shook her head. "Stop lying about things, Henry – alright? You're not alone."

* * *

"What did you do to that security guard?" When Henry didn't answer, she turned to him. "You put something in his coffee."

"I simply raised his magnesium levels – I gave him the anti-acid."

"No, you didn't, Henry. I gave him the coffee – you put that on me!"

He hesitated. "I'm sorry."

She looked away, thinking for a moment. "Why, Henry? Why does this matter so much?"

"Adam-"

"What does it matter, Henry? So he's another Immortal that's a psychopath stalking you – what has he done?"

"He could hurt you, or Abe!"

"But he hasn't! We can't arrest him, can't kill him..."

"But the dagger-"

"We only have his theory that that's how it works. And how would we do it? Are you going to kill him? Is one of us going to kill him? What if it doesn't work? Did you think this through, Henry?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but she shook her head.

"What am I to you?"

He paused at the seemingly sudden subject change. "...You are my friend. My partner." He hesitated again. "And someone I care very deeply about."

"But not enough to trust. You don't care about anyone enough to trust them."

He started to protest.

"Here's what you mean to me. You are someone who has frustrated me, and confused me, and...look at life in a different way." She paused. "And, most importantly, you have made me...feel again. And for that I will always be grateful." She looked at him. "Get out, Henry. I'm not going to help you destroy yourself – choose petty revenge over family."

* * *

"Henry? Henry!"

Two Immortals and two weapons.

"Henry!"

The weapons that killed them.

"Come on..."

The weapons that might kill them forever.

"Where are you..."

Two Immortals.

"Please."

How immortal were they?

"Adam!"

One cut across the throat and he fell beside the younger man.

"Henry – no, Henry..."

A flash of rainbow lights and two bodies became nothing but an old photograph and a gold pocket-watch.

* * *

"Hello, Detective. Do you have a new mystery for me to solve?"

"Yeah, I think you could say that." She smiled, pulling out his pocket watch. "Why does this never disappear?"

"Ah, thank you..." He took it, slowly wrapping the chain up. "I lost it."

She nodded, pulling something else out of her pocket. "I found this there too."

He carefully took the picture, staring at it while Abe came up to look over his shoulder. "I'm sorry…."

"Life isn't just a game, Henry."

"Yes..."

"You aren't alone."

He nodded, and then looked up, shaking off his thoughts. "Would you like to come in?"

"If you tell me what happened to Adam."

"I'm not a killer, Jo..."

"I know. But he killed himself."

"...He did?"

"He cut his own throat. Died when you did."

"He was supposed to be paralysed – frozen for a lifetime at least."

She frowned. "What?"

"I'm a doctor – I used my knowledge to imprison him the only way I could: in his own body. It would keep you safe..."

"…And if he had gotten free?"

"I...admit I hadn't thought that far ahead."

She stared at him in exasperation and then turned to his son. "Abe, I resign from my station of watching him."

"Ah, ah, ha! You promised, Jo! You're stuck with him now."

"What, like some sort of living will?" She followed them into the shop.

"Yes. Your very own antique."

Henry let the door of the shop close. "…I feel I should be insulted."

"It makes for a good story."

* * *

 _AN:...I would have stopped it at the bodies disappearing. But it's finished. And I'm sorry if it leaves more of a loose end leaving Adam free, but the finale did NOT work for me. Even without the AU. It just...surely there was a way for him to kill himself? It didn't make sense for me... I'm sorry it's terrible. Thank you for taking any time to read this._


End file.
